


Turnabout's Fair Play

by Ignis_Aurum



Category: All Elite Wrestling
Genre: COVID doesn't exist because it's inconvenient for the fic, Gen, Luchasaurus is a concerned father, and Marko almost dies in a match. again., in which Jack pulls a heelturn partially because of anxiety, semi kayfabe compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28845465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ignis_Aurum/pseuds/Ignis_Aurum
Summary: Luchasaurus can handle himself, and it’s not that Marko can’t; Jack just can’t stand watching him get hurt anymore.
Relationships: Jungle Boy & Marko Stunt, Luchasaurus & Jungle Boy & Marko Stunt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Turnabout's Fair Play

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank Lee for this; I never expected to get so into the idea of JB pulling a heelturn.

It’s happening again.

Marko’s trapped in the wrong corner, and no matter how far Jack reaches into the ring when he bolts for the tag, it’s never far enough. He gets caught by the ankle, dragged back to be hurt again, and again, and again.

Jack’s yanking on the tag leash, winding it around his hand until his fingers go numb to take his mind off the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest with every hit Marko takes. Beside him, Luchasaurus leans over the ropes with his hand outstretched and shouts encouragement to their battered teammate.

Then the ref turns his back for just a second too long, they’re choking Marko over the ropes, and Jack is done.

Marko can handle himself in a fair fight, but no one wants to fight fair when they can just toss him around like a ragdoll and pin him when he’s too dazed to fight back anymore. Jack has crawled into the ring and tucked himself over Marko’s body to shield him, checking that he’s okay, that he’s conscious, far too many times, and he’s done.

He slips off the apron, feeling like something in his chest is about to snap, and tries to breathe.

Even above the noise of the crowd, he can hear his heartbeat. The air presses in around him, and he jumps when some faceless assistant at ringside approaches him with a bottle of water to ask if he’s alright. He nods, clenching and unclenching his fists as the thud of Marko’s back hitting the canvas echoes through his head. He turns back to the ring just in time to see Marko miss Luchasaurus’ hand by a centimeter, held back by his hair.

They don’t drag him back right away, waiting for Jack to climb up on the apron and desperately reach for his hand before they simply pick him up and throw him at the turnbuckle. They’ve had him isolated for at least five minutes, and while Marko is a tough little guy, there’s only so much he can take.

He slips down again, creeping around to their opponents’ corner a few steps at a time. There’s murmuring from the fans close enough to see him and a confused shout from Luchasaurus when it registers that Jack’s not by their corner anymore. When he finally makes it over, Marko is pinned against the bottom turnbuckle, using the middle rope for leverage while he kicks up into his attacker’s chest.

Nobody in the ring has noticed Jack yet, too preoccupied with the chaos. He grabs the legs of one of the wrestlers on the apron when they reach for Marko and yanks. Their jaw hits the rope and their forearms hit the apron, and everyone is staring at him, but he can’t bring himself to care because Marko dives through the legs of the one in the ring and tags out. Jack ignores the ref yelling at him, puts the guy he pulled down face-first into the ring post for good measure, dodges a kick from the guy still on the apron, and rushes over to his corner.

Marko’s laying in a heap on the ground, one assistant running through a concussion test while the other coaxes him into a more comfortable position. Jack shoos them both away as soon as they’re satisfied that Marko didn’t crack his skull, shifts so that his body is in the way of the camera pointed at them, and whispers into his friend’s hair, “Take it easy. We’ve got this.”

It’ll be a handicap match from here on out, but that’s fine. Marko is back where he belongs, and Jack isn’t going to let these assholes touch him again. 

He hops back up onto the apron and winds the tag leash around his hand, looser this time. The tension in his chest has eased now that Marko’s safe, so he can focus on the rest of the match. Luchasaurus has their opponents staggered, even as all three of them jump in the ring trying to reclaim the advantage. He paces and tugs on the leash, waiting for a chance to get back in the fight.

Finally, there’s only one wrestler in the ring with Luchasaurus, but now the other two are on the floor, coming around the ring, and that’s too close to Marko for Jack’s liking. In short order, one eats a moonsault and the other gets introduced to the barricades, and back to their own corner they go. Then, he sneaks in a blind tag and keeps the guy in the ring down with a senton off his partner’s shoulders.

He’s paying too much attention to the wrestlers on the apron, checking that they’re staying in their corner, so the sunset flip comes as a surprise. It knocks the wind out of him, but he still gets his shoulder up before the ref counts three. A few well-timed kicks and a springboard arm drag later, he has an STF locked in tight, holding it until Luchasaurus pries his hands open.

“Jungle Boy! Jungle Boy—Jack,” the older man says, pulling on his shoulder to get him to back off. “He tapped; it’s over.”

Jack scrambles to his feet. “I didn’t,” he starts, but the sentence dies in his throat. There are too many people, too many cameras, too much noise. He can’t think, and he doesn’t know where the other two skulked off to, and he can’t see Marko anymore, and-

Luchasaurus touches his arm, gently, and he lets himself be guided out of the ring and back through the tunnel. Backstage, there are questions coming at him from all directions, but he still can’t find it in him to care. 

He needs to know where Marko is. Everything else can wait.

It’s taking too long to get back to the trainers’ room. People keep stopping him—asking what happened out there. Every comment and glance just makes him want to break something more, and it’s only Luchasaurus’ hand on his back that stops him from clocking MJF in the face for joking that he’d pulled a heelturn.

By the time they get there, Marko’s waiting on a chair outside, holding an ice pack to the back of his neck. “I feel like I got hit by a truck, man,” he groans, hissing in pain as he rolls his shoulder.

Although Jack still wants to break something—preferably their opponents—he settles for helping Marko to his feet so they can get out of here as soon as possible. The urge to carry him is almost unbearable, but he knows better than to make Marko feel weak by coddling him after a beating like that. Even so, his hands hover uncertainly around his friend’s shoulders for a few seconds while he steadies himself for the walk.

Marko winces once or twice along the way, and Luchasaurus starts up an idle conversation halfway to the Uber that Jack simply mhms and nods his way through. He spends most of the drive to the hotel staring out the window, trying to get MJF’s quip about a heelturn to stop replaying in his head.

Their opponents cheated first, distracted the ref to get a few cheap shots in while his back was turned. So what that Jack played a little dirty? He’s tired of letting people get away with hurting Marko; that doesn’t make it a heelturn.

They check in, and the conversation tapers off in the elevator. They’re left standing in awkward silence, Marko shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Jack balling his hands into fists at his sides, and Luchasaurus adjusting the bags slung over his shoulder.

When they get to their room, Luchasaurus stops him before he can walk through the door. “Hey, we gonna talk about tonight?”

“Marko needed to make a tag,” he says, and as far as he’s concerned, that’s the end of it. He tries to brush past him, only for a hand on his chest to stop him again.

“You can’t just break the rules like that.”

“Why not?”

“Marko can handle himself in the ring.” The concern in his voice is more apparent now, and Jack can see his eyes narrow just slightly behind the mask. There’s something on the tip of his tongue, something he’s biting back, but Jack doesn’t want to hear it.

“Yeah, when the other guy doesn’t cheat.”

“He would’ve made the tag eventually.”

“And if he didn’t?” A year of pent-up frustration and worry comes to the surface all at once, the words spilling out before he has a chance to think about them. “If they broke his ankle again, or threw him out of the ring, or anything else we’ve just stood there and watched them do to him before? If they’re not careful, they could put him in the hospital-”

“Guys?” Marko calls from inside, and Luchasaurus gives him a look that means they’re not done.

Except, they are.

He values Luchasaurus as a partner and as a friend, and if it were anything else, he’d back down. But playing by the rules means standing there, helpless, while Marko takes yet another unnecessary bump that leaves him sore and ginger on his feet for days, if it doesn’t keep him from wrestling entirely until he heals. The executives enable it, booking him against heels three times his size to showcase their strength and brutality, and every time, Jack just stands there and watches.

He can’t do it anymore.

For now, though, all there’s left to do is clean up and go to bed. He changes clothes, brushes his teeth, and waits for Marko to finish his nightly rituals and burrow under the covers before he even thinks about trying to sleep. Luchasaurus hasn’t spoken to him since their argument was interrupted, and while it’s not ideal, he doesn’t feel like breaking the silence to fix that.

It’s not like he’s going to apologize for what he did, anyway.


End file.
